Spring

Walking Dusty through the familiar woods yesterday and still struggling with aftermath of the flu, my thoughts closed in on myself. Then, suddenly, I was aware of the difference. 

The landscape is still splattered with pockets of snow, which continues to drift sporadically from the sky. The wind hasn’t lost its biting edge. The sun peeks through occasionally, but generally keeps a low profile. To all intents and purposes, it could still be winter.

But the woods are alive with the sound of music, the music of spring. Birds, no doubt a little confused by the chilly weather, nevertheless are into romance and are singing their wee hearts out to each other, hoping to find a mate.

The joy of renewed life.  Of that which has been dead coming back to life. Of course, in nature, it has only appeared dead over the winter as plants hibernated to avoid dropping dead with the cold. 

But today is Good Friday. Having been sick, I’ve missed the usual walks through this Holy Week which I like to do. I like to remember what Jesus did for me. I want to make sure that my gratitude is as real and as full as it should be. But I missed the services, and the walk with the cross.

This morning, though, as I stared out of my prayer alcove window, there glinting in the sun were 3 telephone poles, looking like 3 crosses. 

There are many ways of remembering what Jesus did for us. They don’t all involve going to church or hanging out with church people.

May God renew his life in you over this Easter weekend. May his hope rise within you as the sap rises within the plants and trees. May you know the peace of Christ deep within your heart, as your voice joins the ebullient birds’ chorus. Happy Easter.